Donkey’s Burden
I stopped by my manger, humble yet proud,
Just a poor donkey, not cowed by no crowd—
A flea-bitten burro, itchy and grey,
Ancient, forsaken, my food dirty hay.
Into this stable on that fateful night,
I brought royal girl, her face full of light;
Mary, he called her, she light on my back,
From afar I brought her, kept to wide track.
In from the country, no Inn for her rest,
Just a grim stable where she was now guest.
Down to piled straw next my dirty manger,
He placed her gently, fraught for her danger.
She cried only once, then smiled through her pain,
As though giving birth were blessing and gain.
I knelt beside them in my awkward way,
Hoping to shield them from dark winds at play.
She wrapped him tight, held him close to her breast;
The stable’s dark shadow fell on her chest.
If I was a bright beast, not just an ass,
I’d speak quite clearly what next came to pass:
For Heaven exploded, music and light,
Voices, choirs singing, now crowds in the night!
My world was unmade, no place for an ass,
Until Mary’s touch said this too shall pass—
Said peace gentle beast, God’s with us at last!
